


Tune of the Time

by kylee



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Courtly Flirtation, Drabble Sequence, Failure to Communicate, M/M, Petty Danish Exes, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26275450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylee/pseuds/kylee
Summary: A small tragedy, considering.
Relationships: Hamlet/Horatio (Hamlet), Hamlet/Osric
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Tune of the Time

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dear to Fancy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26287411) by [ERNest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ERNest/pseuds/ERNest). 



Osric’s words meant nothing, but that was the fun of it, for Hamlet. They exchanged words without consequence, just to savor the sound of them, bowed and flirted and flattered, called each other ‘sweet lord,’ ‘dear sir,’ competing through compliments. It was fun, that was all, courting the edge of scandal, seeing who would blanch or blush first — until, inevitably, neither did. One day Hamlet walked his hand up Osric’s chest, leaned in close enough to confide, or kiss, and Osric took his bet. It took away Hamlet’s breath, and breathlessly he laughed as they tumbled into bed together.

⇄

Sometimes, cozy and languorous, limbs tangled in the afterglow, Hamlet would cuddle up to Osric and imagine it meaning something. Just imagine, staging it out like a play — and all of it was play. He didn’t know much of love except the dignified, patient love of his father king for his mother queen, and he knew he didn’t love like that. But Osric was cute, like this. Out of courtly clothes and words, ruffled hair and sweat-damp skin, face still flushed … Hamlet wanted to tease him, to hold him, to keep him. Maybe some things couldn’t help meaning. Maybe.

⇄

Plays didn’t mean anything, when they were over, but they still meant something for the night. So Hamlet was sweet on someone, someone silly as he was, someone who floated from opinion to opinion without ever settling, someone who’d take a lover for the fun of it because it made a nice end to a couplet. Being with Osric was like forgiving himself. He decided he’d accept it, called Osric his sweet, his dear, and resolved himself to say something more when the moment was right.

So he waited.

And waited.

He got very good at waiting, and nothing else.

⇄

Osric wasn’t stupid. At court, he played up his youth and inexperience, his guileless agreeableness, scraped and bowed and pretended not to know. Push him, and cracks burst in the bubble-thin surface — he turned sharp, and could cut a person to tatters with words and a sugared-over smile. 

Which Hamlet, of course, learned from pushing. He didn’t much mind being cut to tatters, just for the joy of that discovery — after all, Osric was _right_. If only (thought Hamlet) Osric was stupid enough not to hide how smart he was.

(Then maybe — maybe — they'd have something.)

⇄

Once, eyes agleam in the room’s low light, Horatio asked Hamlet, “What does this mean?” Hamlet’s breath was short, cheeks flushed as if from a fever, and the truth spilled out his lips, “I don’t know — I don’t _know_ —” He didn’t know love, never had it with Osric, only had a fling and broke his silly heart imagining what love was like. But Horatio cradled Hamlet’s hand to his chest. He said, “It’s all right, you don’t have to know —” (but) “how do you feel?”

Hamlet looked at Horatio’s shining, earnest eyes, and he felt so _much_.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Dear to Fancy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26287411) by [ERNest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ERNest/pseuds/ERNest)




End file.
